


Need You

by ashleyfanfic, justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jon's POV, Love, Sad Dany, Thank God We're Alive Sex, dead viscerion, dragon protecting their mama, mourning dany, post 8x03, talk of an heir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: Jon finds Dany after the battle and they bring one another comfort.





	Need You

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I think I might actually end up with a fic after every episode at this rate. LOL. But none of it would be possible without the stupidly talented justwanderingneverlost. She makes all of this shit readable. She's amazing! She also made the absolutely gorgeous mood board you see. 
> 
> So, this is just what we think happens immediately after the war and the pictures released to Entertainment Weekly based on 8x04. We're dealing with the direct aftermath. We hope you like it.

Arya killed the Night King. His little sister with skills he knew nothing about, nor how she developed them, killed the most evil thing he had ever known. He had gone to the Godswood and found her with Bran, ice and the dead all around them. Theon laid not far away, gone, but he would not be forgotten. He had given his life to protect his family, and for that, Jon felt peace settle around his heart for him. He’d forgiven him for what he could, and he was thankful he had been there.

 

He hugged both of his siblings for a long time, Arya first, then Bran. “Jon. She needs you,” his brother's mellow voice came. He stood back, staring in confusion. “She’s in the field.”

 

Jon knew then who he meant and he was running from the wood and out the North gate, ignoring everyone who called his name. There were bodies and fire everywhere. Smoke, thick and choking. His eyes burned, the tears blurring his vision. 

 

“Daaannny!”

 

Where was she? Was she dying? No! She couldn’t die. Not before he fixed it between them. Not before he told her how much he loved her. That she was his other half, his everything. 

 

The morning light was dawning and his frantic eyes searched the field until finally spotting Drogon huddled close to the ground. His heart clenched painfully, fear and urgency carrying his exhausted body across the scorched and ruined earth beneath his feet. Drogon would've stayed with her, rushed to her side, protected her. She was fine, she had to be. 

 

The dragon slowly turned his great head, watching as he approached, Longclaw still in his hand. He threw down his blade the moment a quiet sob reached his ears. Terrified at what he might find, he forced his feet to walk around the leathern wing, freezing at the sight of her tiny form cradling Jorah Mormont's lifeless body in her lap. Her head was bent over his, her whole body shaking from the force of her anguish. Shuffling sounded behind him and realized others had followed him out. He waved them off, knowing she wouldn’t want them to see her this way. Thankfully Drogon still shielded her. 

 

He went to her, his body protesting his every step, but he would not be kept from her for anything, not while he was still breathing. He dropped to his knees at her side and wrapped a careful arm around her. He reached over and gently closed Jorah’s eyes. She looked at him, only then seeming to realize he was there. Her beautiful face was covered in soot and dirt and blood, tear tracks streaking through the grime and ripping his heart to tattered shreds. She’d lost so much in this war he’d pulled her into. 

 

He almost wished he'd never gone to her, left her ignorant of the dead. Watching her, so broken and beaten, he thought nothing could be worth her pain. 

 

With a gentle touch, he got her to release her Jorah, it was only then he realized she had a sword still clutched in her hand. He eased the blade from her grip to find blood seeping from rips in her gloves and splattered on her sleeve. She had fought for her life until the very end. His warrior queen. 

 

He gathered her into his arms, choking on the knot lodged in his throat and the putrid smoke hanging thick in the air. Dany clung to him as if all the seven hells were trying to pull her away from him, her sobs growing harder. He held onto her as tight as he dared without hurting her. Not even when Viserion fell beyond the wall had she lost herself like this. And so he sat, in the middle of death and destruction, and held the one bright light in his entire world as she mourned the loss of her dearest friend, his tears mixing with hers.

 

“He died because of me,” she cried after a time, gasping and grappling for air. Jon pressed his cheek tighter against hers. “I failed him. I failed all of them.”

 

He couldn’t let her think it. He couldn’t. Without her, all would've been lost. “No, Dany, you didn’t fail anyone. You did all you could. You fought, love. And he fought for you because he loved you. Your Dothraki loved you. Your Unsullied love you. I love you,” he whispered. “You failed no one.”

 

She shook all the harder in his arms, spilling her sorrow and he sat there on his knees holding her against him until her storm of grief had spent itself. She pulled away, her breath still shuddering, tears unceasing, and pressed one last kiss on Jorah’s head. “Can you… can you see that he’s cleaned up? Taken care of?”

 

He nodded, even though she wasn't looking. “It will be done, Your Grace,” he promised and stood. She reached for him and he helped her to her feet as well he could. Both of them were as weak as new babes. With grubby hands, he brushed away her tears, but they continued to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

 

She shook her head. “Can… can you take me inside?”

 

“It would be my honor, Your Grace.”

 

“Stop that. It’s Dany. I prefer it when you call me Dany.”

 

He gave her a small smile, the only spark of hope he'd allow himself at her admission, and waved her forward, but she captured his hand in hers and shook her head. “You will walk beside me, not behind me,” she whispered, though he heard her strength clinging tight to the edge of her words and his heart leaped behind his aching ribs.

 

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss to her fingers. “Always.”

 

Drogon unwrapped them from the sanctuary of his wings, revealing her counsel, Tormund, and Davos. Jon heaved a sigh. “Ser Jorah fell defending the Queen. Would one of you please see to it that he’s cleaned up, his armor shined, and he has a proper place in the funeral pyre,” he asked as he escorted Daenerys through the quiet group, stopping long enough for Missandei to embrace her queen.

 

“I’ll handle it,” Tormund offered. There was no love lost between the Mormonts and the Freefolk, but it spoke to Tormund’s respect for the man they had fought beside beyond the Wall that he took on the task. Jon squeezed his shoulder as they passed, Tormund returned the gesture.

 

Once inside the keep, they were brought up short, stunned at all the damage. Daenerys’ breath quickened beside him, she'd found the fallen body of Viserion. He released a broken breath as she let him go and moved to the shell of what had been her son. A shaking hand was laid upon his snout and her head lowered once again in grief, her tears returning. 

 

Tyrion, Missandei, Varys, and Davos still hovered close by, all with questions on their faces. But he knew she couldn’t handle them, not yet, and neither could he. He turned from her mourning and looked at Missandei. “Could you see to a bath drawn for the queen?”

 

Missandei nodded and had Grey Worm go with her, but then he didn’t think either wanted to leave the other. He didn't blame them. 

 

Dany turned from her son, her eyes finding his once more, hollowed and haunted, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms for an age, banish all her pain, protect her from more. But he couldn’t. She was trapped in it, grief swirling around her, threatening to swallow her whole, and he feared for her. For them. She had lost so much, perhaps too much, and the blame lay at his feet, a thick, black sucking pit of it.

 

“Your Grace,” Tyrion interrupted his despair he watched her turned to her Hand. “We will see to it that Viserion is given the same treatment as Ser Jorah.”

 

She gave a small nod and came back to Jon’s side. He wasn't sure he should, but he placed his arm around her and pulled her close. Dany didn't fight him, giving into his support instead, her meager weight leaning on him. “I’m glad you’re all still with us. Will you check with those that survived and make sure their needs are met?”

 

“Of course, Your Grace,” Davos answered. 

 

Jon looked at his old friend. “I’ll be escorting the queen to her room and guarding her,” he said softly. “See that she’s not disturbed until she calls for someone.”

 

Tyrion cleared his throat at that pronouncement but one look from him had him nodding his head. “Yes, my lord.”

 

“Did you do it?” she asked as they picked their way across the courtyard, the smell of decay and rotting flesh burning his nose and turning his stomach. 

 

“Do what?”

 

“Kill the Night King?”

 

He shook his head. “I couldn’t get there in time,” he answered softly. “It was Arya.”

 

She gave a small smile. “I shall like to meet with her later, once everyone is rested. Thank her for saving us all.”

 

Jon nodded. “I’ll make sure of it,” he said as he walked her up the stairs and into the hall where the royal suite was located. This side of the castle had surprisingly little damage. There were already two Unsullied standing at her door, both battered and bloody. S he suddenly began speaking in Valyrian and the soldiers looked at one another, bowed to her, and walked down the hall. 

 

They both watched them go and he turned to her. “What did you say to them?”

 

“That their queen orders them to find shelter and rest. You will protect me.”

 

He gave her a small nod and smile as he opened the door. He felt rejuvenated in their love for one another by her confidence in him, but unworthy as well. She’d given him so much, and he felt as if he kept taking from her, never giving back what she deserved.

 

When they entered, he could hear water running in the adjoining room, where the hot springs fed into a tub. Grey Worm was standing before them and once Jon shut the door,  Dany stepped forward and embraced him. The soldier seemed a little taken aback by her affection, but he embraced her as someone would an old friend.  “I am so happy to see you,”  she whispered. 

 

“It is good to see, My Queen. I am sorry for Ser Jorah. He was brave. A strong man.”

 

She nodded and Jon could see her struggling to hold back another wave of tears. He didn’t know where she drew her strength from. “He was. When Missandei has finished, I’m ordering the two of you to hole yourselves away somewhere together. Do not let anyone disturb you,” she told her commander. 

 

Grey Worm lowered his head. “As you say, Your Grace.”

 

Her most trusted advisor chose that moment to exit from the other room. “It is ready, Your Grace. I put some of your oils in the water.”

 

The pair hugged again, unable to refrain. “Thank you, my friend,” Dany whispered. “Now, please, the two of you, go. We'll be fine, take care of yourselves.”

 

With solemn nods, Grey Worm and Missandei left and Jon latched the door behind them. Dany had retreated to the ensuite and he followed. She'd removed her gloves and was pulling her coat off as he entered. He moved forward to help her, slipping it from her shoulders, leaving her in a light tunic, her leather riding pants, and boots. He pushed her gently into the chair by the fire and he kneeled at her feet, hands busy at the laces of her boots. She stilled them, pulling them to her lap and his eyes met hers in confusion. 

 

She carefully peeled his gloves off, one, then the other, and he did his best not to wince, nor hiss from the pain. They were in no better shape than her own, swollen and ripped and bloodstained. 

 

The look on her face was devastating as she took them in, as if her emotions were warring within her, going back and forth between relief and torment. He knew it because he felt the same every moment he looked at her. 

 

They had won, but at what cost? Could it even be considered a victory after so much loss? 

 

She came North with two armies and two dragons. Rhaegal was injured from his fight with Viserion, no doubt Drogon was as well. The Dothraki had been extinguished as quickly as the flames that had lit their arakhs, and only a full counting would tell how many Unsullied she still had. 

 

When she spoke, her voice was a small, fragile thing that sent a spear through his heart. “How are we alive?”

 

He gave her a small shrug, unable to find the words to comfort her. The best he could do was try to assure her they were and they were together. “I don’t know. But we are. I won’t second guess that.” 

 

He went back to work, slipping her second boot off. She stood as soon as he'd finished, bracing her hands upon his shoulders and he freed her from her leathers. Then she was before him in nothing but her tunic, bruises already blooming black upon her thighs. He tore his eyes away from the painful sight and rose to his feet. “I should have stayed by your side,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

 

She shook her head and her hand came up to brush over his cheek, her heart shining in her eyes, reflecting the possibility of loss he felt still weighing him down. “I might have lost you, too.”

 

He frowned and took her hands in his, placing gentle kisses to both her tattered palms, desperate to make her understand the depths to which he loved her. “You’ll never lose me,” he swore. “I will always be here with you. Always, Dany. You and me.”

 

His declaration only left her looking lost and confused. “But why? I can’t… I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t give you a child—”

 

He cupped her face in his hands, drawing closer, so there were only inches between them. “Dany, if you think I could ever step away from you because of that, then you don’t know me very well.”

 

A tremble ran through her, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. She let out a shuddering breath. “No, I know you. I know your heart is honorable and sweet… I know you love me.”

 

“I do,” he whispered, voice wrecked, fighting the instinct to crush her to him. “I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that,” he rushed on. “I… I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I could barely wrap my own mind around it and I thought if you found out, you'd think the worst and turn from me.”

 

She shook her head and laid herself against his chest, arms encircling him. “It eases my heart to know that Rhaegar wasn’t the monster the world thought him to be,” she said, surprising him with her affection, and her words.

 

A great sigh left him and he gathered her as close, as he dared, pressing his cheek to her hair. “That’s why I told you. You'd been lied to, believed him to be something he wasn't, and I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to tell you, let you know he was a good man. But I couldn’t tell you  _ that _ without telling you the rest.”

 

She pulled away, just enough to look up at him, her beautiful eyes delving to the depths of his soul. “That’s why you were pulling away from me. Why you’d been avoiding me.”

 

He hung his head, guilt a millstone around his neck. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he confessed, words raspy and ruined, “not without hurting you.”

 

“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to bear that alone.”

 

“It's not your fault. You were lied to the same as I was. And the truth couldn't have come at a worse time.”

 

Her expression softened, a hand coming around to rest over his heart. “Perhaps not? If you'd known before…” She left the rest unsaid, but he knew exactly what she meant.

 

“Aye, I suppose so. Part of me said I should feel shame for being in love with you.” He grazed her cheek with his knuckles, trying to imagine not loving her, the thought impossible. He shook his head. “But I don’t,” he told her and her soft responding smile caused his heart to tremble and swell, and more confessions to spill from his lips. “Knowing makes me want to cling to you more. To protect you and love you with all I have. You’re my family, Dany,” he whispered. “I’m your family. You can’t think I would care about the damn throne more than that. Surely you know me better.”

 

She nodded and leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “I do. I know that. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise,” she whispered, her fingers coming up and working on the laces of his gambeson. 

 

He knew he should respond, but he couldn't force another word past the knot in his throat. He untied his sword belt instead and let it drop to the floor. 

 

She pushed the gambeson off his shoulders, then helped him remove his tunic, a gasp filling her. “Jon,” she fretted as she lightly ran her fingers over his chest. 

 

He looked down catching sight of several bruises sprouting across his skin before she pulled him into another kiss, tentative at first, but quickly filling with the fiery passion they were both so familiar with for one another. Her fingers tore at the band holding back his hair, then grasped a handful. She clung to him, and him to her, the feeling of her soft body beneath his hands a balm to his soul. 

 

Her own were fumbling with the laces of his leathers. He stepped back once she had them lose enough and bent over to remove his boots, ignoring the stinging in his fingers and palms. She took the opportunity to remove her tunic and he was brought up short as he took her in. She was covered in cuts and bruises. His pants were momentarily forgotten in favor of tending to her. He stood up straight and rubbed his thumb along one that started at her shoulder and stopped just beneath her ribs. Another one at her hip running down to her thigh. His eyes met hers and not for the first time he was in complete awe of her. His Dragon Queen. 

 

He stepped closer to her and took both of her hands in his and placed kisses to her bruised knuckles. Her eyes were welled with tears as he helped her step into the tub. She looked at him expectantly and he removed his other boot and leathers finally. His small clothes were next, and he put a foot in the water, but pulled back, remembering they’d need something to dry off with later. He grabbed a few pieces of linen and placed them beside the sunken tub and climbed in with her. 

 

She put her back to him. “Can you help me with my hair?”

 

He tenderly kissed the nape of her neck as he began pulling bands and pins from her hair. It wasn’t long before it hung down her back in a muddy and blood-spattered tapestry. He grabbed the urn from the edge and ran the water over it, watching as the horror left the white locks. 

 

“You told me Ned Stark was always good to you,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at him.

 

“He was. Treated me like his son,” he answered after a moment.

 

He didn’t know any other way to think of Ned Stark except as his father. He learned at his hand, grew up with siblings that he loved and love him. Other aspects of his life were hard because of the lie, but he knew he would’ve been killed if the wrong person had found the truth. All it would've taken was a word to reach Robert and his life would’ve ended and Ned Stark would’ve paid for his treachery. Instead, he allowed people to talk about his dishonor to Catelyn. Taking him in had been a huge risk, but one Ned Stark had made for the sister he loved and lost. 

 

He ran his hand over Dany’s wet hair, unable to comprehend the heartbroken boy who'd shielded himself in bitterness and brooding, was him, currently in a bath with the dragon queen. He smiled softly and finished his thought out loud. “He just never answered the question of who my mother was.”

 

“Obviously, he couldn’t,” she replied. “Had anyone known, you could’ve been killed. Especially after he told the first lie. His entire family would’ve been on the line at that point,” she said as she leaned forward and grabbed a vial, turning and handing it to him. He opened it and realized it was the scent that was always on her hair. Sunshine. “He saved your life.”

 

He was relieved she understood. He didn’t want unnecessary tension between them, especially not regarding the revelation. As far as he was concerned, it could stay between them. He’d have to tell Sam and Bran he would stay Jon Snow, never to be Aegon Targaryen. But he needed her to know that, too. He had no ambition for the throne, but every ambition to see her achieve her goal after she had sacrificed so much for him. 

 

“Dany, you know I don’t want the throne, don’t you? That it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll fight for you, take it for you.” She was silent for a few moments, and he finished putting the soap into her hair, then watched her sink beneath the water and wash it away. The water itself was filled with suds, swirling in and around one another. 

 

When she came up, she was facing him, which caught him off guard. She linked her arms behind his neck and pressed her forehead to his. “Don’t do it for me,” she whispered. “I want you to do it  _ with _ me. Rule with me,” she asked. 

 

He took a deep breath, taken back at her statement. She couldn’t mean it. “I’m shit at ruling.”

 

She smiled, her fingers ran through his hair, the gesture comforting and he leaned into it as Ghost would scratches behind the ears. “No, you aren’t. You’d do anything to make people’s lives better. And I need you. You balance me, Jon. When I feel frenzied and out of control, you’re my center. You may not always be able to check my impulses, but you make me think things through more than I normally would.” She lightly scraped her nails over his scalp and he shivered, his own hands moving over her wet skin, thankful to be able to touch her and hold her again. 

 

Before the battle, when they were on top of the mountain together, he doubted he would ever get to again. She had pulled away from him, not listening to his warning. Watching her people being slaughtered was more than she could take and she wouldn’t stand aside without fighting for them. He admired her for it. 

 

“I balance you,” she said softly, bringing him back from their long night. “When you feel like doing something stupid and heroic, I’m here to save you,” she said with a smile. 

 

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Aye. You’ve become too good at that.”

 

She tucked her face into the notch of his neck and shoulder. “I would be empty without you, Jon. You know that, don’t you?”

 

He hugged her to him, the declaration causing his heart to clench. He felt words escaping him before he could stop them, the confession all too revealing, but he couldn't find a reason to care. “Before you, Dany, it didn't matter if I lived or died. Especially after I was brought back,” he whispered. “I thought I would prefer death, actually.” She lifted her head and looked at him with such concern that he swiped his thumb over her brow, trying to erase the worry. “But now, I have something worth living for, and that’s you. I want to wake up every morning and see your smile. I want to spend my years trying to find all the things that make you laugh. I want to ride our dragons together, lost in our own world, just you and me. I want all of that and I can only have it if I keep living and if I have you with me. I’ll take that in whatever capacity I can, and I will love you for all the days of my life.”

 

She swallowed hard, her lips pressed tightly together and his heart gave a shocking jolt, fearful all his hopes were about to vanish. “There is one problem.”

 

“What’s that?” he asked, even though he didn't want an answer.

 

“We need an heir,” she whispered, voice catching, her eyes trapped on their entwined hands where they laid against his chest. 

 

The air rushed out of him and he crushed his lips to her hair, heartbroken at the anguish within her, feeling helpless of ever healing it. “Let’s name Arya our heir. She killed the Night King.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “From what I’ve seen of your sister, she’s every bit the she-wolf that you are the white wolf. Ruling would not make her happy. Besides, we need a blood heir. House Targaryen must live. It's our duty.”

 

He sighed and nodded, running his hand up and down her back to soothe them both. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. If you were cursed, could we not find someone to remove it?”

 

She gave him the saddest of smiles. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” she whispered. “And who do we know that could make or break curses?” Before he could answer, she brought her hands up to his face, thumbs tracing along his cheekbones, and dropped her forehead to his. “Let’s not think about it, now. I’m sorry I brought it up. We just survived a fight we shouldn’t have. You still have blood in your hair. And all I want is to spend the entire day with you in bed.”

 

He smiled and kissed her softly. “As my queen commands.”

 

Jon slipped from her arms and sunk beneath the water and rubbed his hands through his hair, ridding it of the blood and mud. He placed a kiss on her belly before he came up and shook the extra water from his head. She looked at him where he stood and tugged on his arm to bring him down to her. She went to pour some of the soap from the vial into her hands, but he stopped her. “I’ll smell like you.”

 

She smirked at him. “That’s fine with me. Who else will be close enough to sniff you? Besides, you’ll smell like me by the end of the day.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her waist as her fingers sank into his hair and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. “That’s completely true.”

 

She reached for one of the linens, using one corner to gently dab at a tender spot on his cheek. Feeling the sting from his own wounds had him fretting over hers. “I want the maester to look you over,” he said softly. “Make sure you don’t have anything too serious.”

 

She nodded her consent. “And you too.” 

 

“Aye.”

 

“Stand up for me,” she asked. He reluctantly released her and stood. She did as well, rubbing over his skin with the linen while he mapped her hair and face with eyes and hands. She occasionally met his gaze, but her concentration seemed solely focused on cleaning him. Her body rubbed against his as she didn’t ask him to turn around, but wrapped her arms around his body and washed him that way. Just when he thought he had endured all of her torture he could, her slick hand slid around his cock and gripped him firmly. He stilled her, though, looking over his shoulder at her in concern. 

 

She let him go, seeming almost frightened. 

 

When he turned around she brought her hands to his face. “Are you repulsed by me?”

 

He shook his head adamantly. “Never.”

 

“Do you not want me?”

 

He pulled closer, pressing their bodies together. “More than anything. I only stopped you because I was afraid if you kept touching me I’d ruin our bath.”

 

She hesitated for just a moment then laughed, dropping her forehead to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, his heart overfull. “I will have you, Jon,” she whispered, the words a demand. 

 

She sat on the edge of the tub and pulled him closer, taking his mouth with hers. His hands were moving over her slippery skin as her kisses kept him closer. He pressed his lips along her jaw, her neck. Her legs wrapping around his waist. Her hand back on his cock, sliding slowly over him. He broke away from her, pinning her hands beside her. 

 

“Lay back,” he ordered, and dropped down into the water, his hands running up her thighs and spreading them. The moment she laid down against the stone floor he was licking at her folds. 

 

How could he ever have thought that he would survive without this, without her? It had been one of the many thoughts swirling around in his head when Sam had told him. That she might be repulsed and no longer want him. That she might hate him. But now, having her moan his name as his tongue lapped at her entrance, it only made complete sense that they were together. 

 

She tugged on his hair, directing his mouth where she wanted him most. He sucked her tiny nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it, soft, but quick, just as he knew she liked best and soon she was coming beneath him with a shuddering cry. He released it only to drop down to her entrance and lap up her heady arousal. But her insistent pulling on his hair drug him away from his feast and he crawled out of the tub, placing kisses along her belly and up to her full breasts. She gasped as he latched onto one rosy strained peak, suckling greedily, and pulled away from him. 

 

Afraid he’d hurt her, he slunk back, but tugged him closer again, her mouth finding his and he nearly melted into her warm body. “Let me take you to the bed,” he suggested.

 

She shook her head. “No. You’ll take me here,” she urged, her hand stroking his cock. “I can’t wait anymore.” The desperation in her voice made him seek out her mouth again. Her hands scratched and pulled, and when his cock bumped her entrance, she groaned into his mouth. “Make me yours,” she whispered.

 

He hitched her leg over his shoulder and drove into her, his breath faltering to feel her heat closing in around him. Her fingers dug into his ass, her body arching off the floor as he took her, harder and faster with each stroke. He wanted to get lost in her, forget everything but the way they felt in each other’s arms. He leaned down and kissed her and her fingers slid into his hair, twisting tight. “More, Jon,” she gasped.

 

He was afraid of going much harder, that he could hurt her. But she looked up at him, eyes aflame, bottom lip tucked between her teeth and nodded. He would not deny her. Bracing both hands beside her head, he drove his hips into hers. Her soft mewls turned into loud cries and suddenly she was shattering around him. The pressure of her cunt clasping and squeezing him, the sound of his name torn from her lips, her hands grasping and pulling at him– all of it sent him over the edge, thrusting into her a few more times as the world faded to nothing behind a shower of stars.

 

As soon as he came back to himself, he released her leg and settled his weight carefully on top of her. She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, her head pressed against his. “I love you, Jon,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”

 

Lifting his head from the warm sanctuary of her neck, he nodded and brushed the wet hair from her face. “And you know I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers in a reverent kiss. “You saved us.”

 

She shook her head. “I didn’t...”

 

“Dany, if you hadn’t come with your armies and your dragons, I believe we’d all be dead.” He sighed and dropped his head to hers. “You took a chance on a man you didn’t know and I’ve cost you so much.”

 

She brushed her fingers over his cheek and he leaned into her comforting touch. “Please don't. If you hadn't come to me, we'd all be dead, and besides, you’ve given me something I didn’t think I could ever have. Family.”

 

He pressed his lips to hers and stood, both hands held out to her. She took them and he pulled her to her feet. He used the fresh linen to dry her off, unable to keep his hands from touching her. She took it from him, dropping it to the floor, and pulled him along behind her to the adjoining bedroom. They climbed under the furs, their bodies melding together.

 

“Tomorrow, when we eventually meet with those that are left, I’ll bend the knee to you, again,” he told her, “Properly this time.”

 

She pulled away, a deep crease between her brows. “No. I don’t want you to answer to me. I want you to rule  _ with _ me.”

 

He dared to offer something he never dreamed he would. “I think the easiest solution would be for us to marry.”

 

She smiled. “Perhaps.”

 

He took a deep breath, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. “Would you want me? To marry me?”

 

She snuggled into him a bit more and her arms tightened around him. “More than anything.”

 

He released a shaky sigh of relief and brushed his fingers through her wet hair, holding her close, lips pressed to her temple. “And when would you want to do this?”

 

She lifted her head again, a slow, soft smile spreading on her beautiful face. “An hour?” she asked with a laugh. 

 

He took a deep breath, peace washing through every inch of his body. She was serious and her answer more than proved that. If it were any other day he'd have them up and halfway to the weirwood tree by now. “Let’s let everyone get some sleep, first. Tomorrow alright with you?”

 

“Perfect.”

 

“And a Godswood wedding?”

 

“That would be a first for me,” she said with a grin. “Wear your sword, though. I’ve heard enough bad things about weddings in this country.”

 

“Ours will be one to remember,” he murmured as he leaned down and kissed her. “A new spring.”

 

She hummed, running her fingers down his cheek. “Tomorrow. Right now, I need you.”

 

He held her tight as he rested back against his pillow, settling her over him. “You have me, Dany.”

 

*~*

 

They stood outside the gates of Winterfell, all those that survived. Daenerys was to his right and he could see her hand shaking as she picked up the torch and slowly walked to the pyre beside him. The others followed, Tormund, Lord Royce, Grey Worm, stepping forward and lighting the section of the pyre that held their people. Dany managed to hold onto her composure as she lit the wood beneath Jorah. He watched as Sansa lit Theon's and Arya Beric's. 

 

He looked down at Edd and almost couldn’t breathe, his lungs caked with grief. When Sam had told him how their brother fell, he had asked to be alone. The only person who'd been able to bring him out of his dark thoughts about the Night’s Watch truly being gone had been Dany. 

 

Their advisors had recommended they wait a week, allow the dead to truly rest before they wed. Neither were happy with the advice but had agreed easily out of respect for those that were still being collected from the Godswood and the field. 

 

They stepped back from the pyre and he took her hand and looped it through his arm. 

 

“There’s so many of them,” she whispered.

 

“And so few of us,” he said as he looked around at those that remained. “I’m sorry.”

 

“If I had taken King’s Landing, this fight would’ve come for us anyway. Better we stopped it here than allowing it to get any further south.”

 

Others began filing into the keep but they remained. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you did, Dany.”

 

She lowered her head and looked at the fires. “They did it. They gave their lives...”

 

“We would have been hopelessly lost without you. You must know that.”

 

“They should thank you. You came to me, risked your life to come to me, and tell me this. Even when I didn’t believe you… I thought you were mad.”

 

“You had every right to think that.”

 

She shook her head and squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

 

He gripped her tighter. “Don’t be sorry. I doubt I would've done any different in your shoes. You believed me when the time came,” he whispered. “That’s all that matters to me.”

 

She looked at their joined hands. “You needed me,” she said with a smile. “That’s what the raven said.”

 

“And it remains as true today as it did then,” he said softly.

 

“I need you, too. You know that, don’t you?”

 

He tilted his head, blew out a weary breath. “Honestly, Dany, you’re the strongest person I know. You don’t actually need anyone. You would survive all of this all over again because you are resilient, honorable, decent, kind, and above all of that, strong. You don’t need me for any of that.”

 

She turned to face him, took his hands in hers, ignoring propriety's rules. “You’re wrong. I do need you. You make me whole, Jon. You're my other half. The part that’s been missing all my life and now that I have it, I lament all the time we were apart.”

 

He pulled her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I’ll never leave your side, Dany. I’m yours, as long as you’ll have me.”

 

“Forever. I’ll have you forever.”


End file.
